Manipulator and the criminal
by Naraya-Marjana
Summary: Okay, so I am obviously not a trekkie. I didn't even know who Khan was until I saw the movie Star Trek: Into Darkness. I just love the power Benedict Cumberbatch brings to the character. Is that wrong? Can't I have some fun and create an alternative universe all of my own? Maybe based solely on the trailer(s)? Yeah? Really? Okay, then. Shall we begin?
1. Chapter 1

When all your plans are overthrown and your ambition devastated, do you hunt down the one responsible? Can you even imagine life without revenge? Can you stand it – the sun shining upon the one who ruined it all?

No, you cannot. You will rather die a thousand times than allow them to escape the wrath of your pain. You will have your revenge, complete and total satisfaction as their lives crumble away, into dust.

Think. Imagine. If the one you hate is also the one you cherish – if the love in your heart is tearing you apart bit by bit, day by day, if disgust and adoration fight for dominance in every cell of your body – what do you do?

What do you do? What _can_ you do?

You fight.

But can you win? Well, can you?

Have I got your attention now?


	2. Chapter 2

He stood tall and lean, as patient as death. While his eyes gazed into nothingness, he waited.

She was standing on the other side of the transparent wall. Seemed to have been made of glass, it was hard enough to sustain any physical attack.

Looking at the man who everyone hated and feared, she noticed two things. First, he was obviously dangerous and determined. Second, he was – less obviously – sad, in pain, and alone.

He had done the unthinkable. He had gone against everything he had once valued – all his upbringing, all his training, all his efforts to conform. He was going to kill everyone – literally everyone. He had not the slightest intention of surviving the coming cataclysm, which made him the greatest threat of all. He was desperate to succeed in bringing every soul in the universe to their untimely death.

Sad, in pain, and alone, and about to cause the largest massacre in the history of conscious thought. Could such a man be reasoned with? Could he be prevailed upon by emotion? Could anything, anyone change the course of his path?

That was why she was here. The people who still thought they pulled all the strings, had engaged her to change this one man's mind, to avert the impending disaster. She was supposed to be the best in her particular line of work, but nobody knew exactly what she did or how she did it. She had never felt the need to explain.

For some months now, she had had a feeling she was soon going to die. She had thought about ways and means of avoiding it, but in light of recent events, her premonition might or might not have been a correct one. If she did what she was supposed to do – if she managed to force the man standing in front of her to divulge the information everybody wanted so badly – she would survive. All of them would.

Unless...

He was still unaware of her presence, lost in thought as he was. Less than a second had passed. As she watched him, she began to realize she had missed a vital variable of the equation. _He tells, everyone lives. Okay._ No, not okay. The sense of the approaching doom haunted her still, despite her mind's obvious conclusion. And as she watched him, she began to understand why that was.

He was feeling, thinking and oozing death. It was in the very air that surrounded him. She could feel it even through the barrier between them. He was already dead inside and his own life meant nothing to him. Preventing the death of innocents would only serve to insure his survival. He would have to stand trial and pay for his crimes. He was going to do – was doing his best to avoid all of that.

If he no longer valued his existence, he was a death sentence to everyone, not just himself. But...

There was always a but somewhere, wasn't it? A loophole. A chance of escape, contained in one small word. But...

But what if he began to value someone else's life instead? Even if he truly detested himself so much that he no longer cared for his own life, were it not possible that he might learn to desire someone else's health and happiness?

Of course, things had never been that simple. Such a bond would take time to grow. And besides, tricking someone into falling in love had never actually worked. No, she would have to play upon the part of him that already existed. She would have to find the love that was already there – only it wasn't, was it? He was alone, bereft of all people who might see the good in him.

Luckily, that had not always been the case. He had had a family, once. A long time ago or a short time ago, what did it matter? Love knew nothing of distances in time or space.

And then?

Then what?

Then she would have to pretend like she had never pretended in all her life. She would have to become the embodiment of his long-lost love, and then she would have to let him hurt her. She would have to make it look like an accident – it would have to appear to him that he had inadvertently caused her harm. Committing a crime of violence against the one you held dear – it was the absolute dream of the manipulator. The two colliding forces – love and hate – should cause a shock, a kind of horror that was strong enough to inspire in the subject the wish to live. To make it better. To make amends.

It was their only hope. Their one chance of survival.

Oh, but it would cost her. In order to pull off this amazing sham, she would have to sacrifice herself.

She believed her life was supposed to have some greater meaning. She had always been sure of it. That was why she had chosen to become a professional rather than remain an amateur – to efficiently serve the higher purpose. In this case, the higher purpose being the continued existence of civilization. She guessed it was just as good a cause as any. But to achieve her aim – to save all those lives from the danger that lay in this one man, who was so determined, so desperate – it would require more than her skill and talent, more than any other task she had ever undertaken. It would require the essence of her, her heart.

In the end, where did the personal end and the professional begin? She was but one body, one mind, one spirit, and she had all her life felt the merging of the private and the public, coming together inside her. The process had been invisible and slow, but the change was permanent.

She had to deceive a man into telling the truth he was trying to hide. There was only one way to do this – the only way it could be done. She had to tell the truth, and tell it to him, face to face, slowly, until it sank in and sprung roots into the deepest, most secret part of him.

When all her pretenses fell away, so would his.

She knew herself well enough to know exactly what secret she had been hiding from the world, and exactly how much it would hurt her to reveal it. Adding the pain he might, no, correct that, would cause her – she wasn't particularly looking forward to it. But the fateful feeling of apprehension followed her still, whispered in her ear that it was meant to be, that she had no choice, that she would indeed succeed in her plan, and that she would die as the result.

She had always trusted her instincts. She wasn't ready to stop now, and she did not hesitate as she made her decision. She would lie to him by telling him the truth. The ultimate truth.

She saw no reason why she should inform her superiors of the methods she would be using. They wanted results, they would get results. She might not survive. It was just as well.

He had become aware of being watched, and slowly turned his head in her direction. She kept perfectly still, looking in the eyes of her death.

Her death was beautiful.

He had no idea of his drawing power, or of the plot she had devised. It would be a battle of souls, and he would lose.

His eyes narrowed in anticipation.


End file.
